Hypothetically

I have decided that I want a golden retriever. Not only are they exceptionally pretty dogs, but they exude a wonderful air of calmness and nobility. Mellow dogs are the best dogs in the world, especially since I tend to be an authoritarian sort of alpha and prefer to settle the power struggle as early in the relationship as is practical.

So, if the humane society gives me any sort of choice, that's what I'll do. Unless they miraculously get an Australian shepherd in.

I still hold out hope that I might run across an Aussie. I am a little fixated on the idea, because the best damn dog I ever had was an Australian shepherd. I still have his collar on my shelf, and he was shot to death by an insane neighbor when I was 13. (Mom gets most of the credit for keeping it through most of the ensuing years; she loved him as much as I did).

They are delightfully quirky dogs, and established the beauty standard by which I still tend to judge all dogs. They're also pretty high-energy. Ishna was a runner, which kind of sucked since I was the one who generally ran to get him back and ended up playing 'tag' all over the fucking town. But he was also devastatingly clever and given to herding small and confused animals, which was charming.

There's a golden rescue in the area, but they do home visits, which bothers me because our yard is city-scale, and I hate the idea of having strangers scrutinize my housekeeping skills. I understand wanting to make sure the animal will be provided with plenty of exercise in its new home, but there's nothing wrong with taking your walks on a leash instead of frolicking in a fenced meadow.

My paranoid fantasy is that the home-visity person will come over, take one look at my fat ass, and decide I'd rather die than leave my smelly, cheeto-stained couch for five minutes. Completing my shame, s/he will tattoo "DON'T LET ME HAVE A DOG EVER" on my forehead before leaving. It probably won't be nearly that bad, but still.

The journey for Hypothetical continues, dot dot dot.